Let's Remember It All
by Lies-Taste-Sweeter-Than-Truth
Summary: It was then that I remembered what he had said to me, all those years ago... Dramione AU... Set in during HBP... REVIEW PLEASE
1. Prologue

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**PROLOGUE**

Before I begin, you should know that I never meant any of it to happen. But you should also know that I'll never regret any of it.

Ever.

The rain only began to fall as I began to run. Away from it all, away from the mess that I knew I had made and that I refused to clear up. The water ran down my flushed cheeks, my damp hair was flattened to my face and it took all my concentration not to fall to the floor.

I heard voices calling me back, footsteps pounding after me, but I forced myself to run harder and faster, not bothering to breathe, just letting the cleansing water soak me through, just letting it wash away the trouble and repair the damage I was so afraid to even think about.

"Hermione!" I heard his voice echo from somewhere behind me but I ran on, away from him and away from what he had don to me. "Hermione!" His voice was desperate but it was further away, getting fainter and fainter as I ran.

Before I could think, I had run into one of the people that I adored so very much but wanted to see the least.

My legs crumpled beneath me and I felt my shoulders start to shake as the tears began to flow. His arms caught me and pulled me up, one entwined round my waist and it felt so right… "Come on, up you get."

"No!" I heard my voice say, and I wanted to take it back, for this was where I wanted to be, in the arms of- "Not you, please, anyone but you!"

I backed away from him, still sobbing, and when I looked into his face I flinched. His beautifully stormy grey eyes were changing: the doorways to his soul shuttering once more and his face becoming again the mask I so hated.

"'Not you'? Granger, you make it sound like _I_ wanted _you_ in the first place! You can't pick and choose, you're just and overrated Potter-worshipper with mud running through you where the blood should be!" He spun on his heel and stormed away, holding the arm that had been holding me slightly away from his body, as though it was contaminated.

As I watched him walk away from me, I realised what I had just done. What waking from my permanent dream had cost me. Why I had chosen not to return before.

My reply came far, far too late and far, far too quietly. "Don't do this, Malfoy, you know that's not what I meant."

I stood staring into the darkness that had swallowed my would-be saviour for some time before turning quietly around and walking away.


	2. Chapter One

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER ONE – **_**Rainy Days**_

It was raining. She stared out across the grounds, or at lease what she knew were the grounds, as all she could see was the driving sleet that hammered violently against anything that stood in its way and slid down the window panes. The common room behind her was a hive of activity; the fire was blazing, people were laughing and talking and there were many games of unidentified origin going on, all of which involved everyone participating making a lot of noise.

But, inevitably, all Hermione could think about was _him_. She hated herself for it, but there it was. She was thinking about him.

Again.

"Hermione! Earth to Hermione! Are you receiving?"

_Oh look. There is a hand waving in front of my face. Perhaps they are trying to get my attention… _Hermione started, her eyes demisting as she focused on her immediate surroundings. "Ron! You startled me!" She struggled to regain her composure as the details of her most recent daydream slipped away. "Did you want something?"

"Well, I did, about ten minutes ago, when I first said your name." He replied testily. "It's nothing really, I just wondered if you wanted a game of chess or something…" He drifted off, noticing the weary look on Hermione's face. "Fine. If you don't want to, you should've just said so when I tried to get your attention the first time." He stalked away and slumped back down in his armchair opposite Harry, his face sullen and his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Hermione sighed. She knew it annoyed her friends when did this. Though she herself wasn't entirely sure what 'this' was. At first it was only when she was extremely sleepy, and the lines of reality and the impossible began to blur, but recently she found herself existing more in her fantasy world than she did in real life. Her mind just took her there, to the place where she and him were… possible.

The only light in the dingy room came from a jar, which was precariously balanced on a wooden stool. The jar seemed to contain a ball of flames that moved and threw shadows high up on the walls.

The jar was in the centre of a group of people, all sat in a circle, all staring at the convulsing fire. One person, a boy with blond hair, sat underneath the single window – a tiny, barred and grimy opening to the world.

"It needs to be done. Someone's got to do it." A dark-skinned boy said, finally breaking the silence.

Someone sighed.

A minute or two passed without anyone speaking.

"I'll do it." The boy by the window had spoken. He stood up, knocking back his chair in the process, walked to the door and opened it. Light spilled into the room, throwing the features of the assembled Slytherins into sharp relief. He turned round and said again, "I'll do it," before spinning on his heel, walking away and letting the door close behind him. Once again the room was in darkness.

**O O O**

He was fuming. Why had he said that? He knew the answer to that question, but accepting that answer as the truth would mean accepting a future he had successfully managed to avoid and ignore for the past three years. When the orders had come, everyone had fallen silent, mulling over what was to be their sole purpose and meaning for existence for as long as it took them to complete. And slowly, every head in the room had gradually turned to look at him.

And that was when he knew.

There was no escape.

"You disappeared pretty quickly after Charms yesterday." Ron commented, quietly. "In a hurry, were we?" He looked up at her and she had a burning urge to hex him into next week.

"Yes, Ron, I was actually. I had forgotten to return a library book, and I had to get there before it closed." This was a downright lie, and she knew Ron probably knew that, but when he raised no objection, she returned to eating her cereal.

"Oh." He said after some time. "Are you going to grace us with your presence at Saturday's match? Or have you got another _book_ you need to return?" His tone was completely innocent, though she could feel rather than hear the maliciousness hidden between the words.

"Maybe I will, I don't know yet. To be honest, spending an hour-and-a-half in the pouring rain, freezing my socks off all to watch morons zoom around on bits of twig doesn't really appeal to me that much." She didn't look up, though she knew there were at least half the table's eyes on her. "Well, I'm off. Just popping into the library. To _return a book_."

She swung her legs out into the aisle without looking behind her to see how much devastation she had caused. _I didn't mean to say that. Harry, you know I didn't mean that. Ron, please don't be mad. I didn't mean to say that. _It took all Hermione's strength to walk away and not let the tears roll down her cheeks – though she wasn't quite sure why she wanted to cry – and run back to her friends and apologise over and over again for being such a cruel, heartless bitch.

"Touché, Granger." Hermione reached the Entrance Hall without breaking down, but bumping into the blonde figure who had just spoken, now, of all situations, made her want to crawl into a ball and die even more. "I don't agree with the comment about Quidditch, but well done for having the guts to say your mind for once in your life." He walked away, and Hermione watched him go with a dazed look on her face.

Later, back in the common room, Hermione caught up with Ginny. She looked at Hermione with a mixture of sadness, disappointment and anger. _Don't look at me like that. I didn't mean any of, you know that._

"Hi, Hermione." Ginny's voice was distant.

"Ginny, where are the boys?" She cut straight to the point, and Ginny looked up at her, humour written all over her face.

"Oh, they're 'boys' now, are they? I thought you were still referring to them as 'morons who zoomed around on bits of twig'." There was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I think they had a detention with Snape, but you never know, they might have gone to the library,to_ return a book_." She turned to go, leaving Hermione feeling stupid and guilty.

"Thanks, Ginny. Sorry I said what I said earlier. I just don't like Quidditch is all." She muttered forlornly.

The red-head stopped in her tracks, and she cocked her head slightly. "That much is obvious." And she walked on.


	3. Chapter Two

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER TWO - **_**Flying**_

"I'm going to learn to fly." Hermione announced to the world at large.

Harry grinned and said, "Good one." Ron dropped his spoon, spattering cornflakes all over the table and Ginny raised one eyebrow.

"I'm serious!" She protested. "I mean, you guys make an effort to be interested in what I do in my spare time, so I figured I'd return the favour."

"But, Hermione, you hate flying. You hate Quidditch. You even hate broomsticks!" Harry said.

"Well, I can change that. Come on, guys, I know I've been a rubbish friend lately, and I said some things I didn't mean, so I'd like to make more of an effort. And I'm going to do that by learning to play Quidditch." She finished, looking around at her rather stunned audience. Ron, however, was shaking with silent laughter.

"I'm sorry," he said, brushing a tear away from the corner of his eye. "It's just… you're _Hermione Granger_."

"Well observed, Ronald." She replied, drily.

"But you don't fly!" He exclaimed. "You belong on the ground, just like… I dunno… gnomes belong in the garden!"

"I guess I'm a gnome that got into the house. Thanks for the support guys." She said, angrily, storming out the portrait hole in the general direction of the Quidditch Pitch.

**O O O**

He needed to be alone.

He needed to vent.

He needed, for a few short hours, to feel free, and that he was in control of his life.

The only time he ever got that feeling of freedom was when he was flying. So that's what he needed to do.

Fly.

**O O O**

She arrived at the Quidditch Pitch rather sooner than she had expected, and so she stood in the middle, staring up at the stands, unsure of her next move.

When a shadow moved across the sun, she glanced up to see a distant figure flashing across the sky, the light glinting off what Hermione knew to be his blond hair.

'Oh.' She thought. 'It's him.'

She watched him for some time before deciding that she could reach that height, and so she fetched herself a broomstick.

**O O O**

Malfoy noticed with annoyance that someone was on the pitch watching him. 'Dammit,' he thought angrily. 'Can't you see I want to be alone?' Determined to escape civilization, he flew higher.

**O O O**

'Okay. Come on, Hermione, pull yourself together. It's a twig. You've seen Harry and Ron do this a thousand times. It can't be _that_ hard…' Gingerly, she lifted one leg over the broom and tightened her grip on the wooden handle. 'There. That wasn't hard, was it? No. Now, let's fly.'

"Broomstick… I want you to fly. Please?" She added as an afterthought. "It never hurts to be polite," she murmured. She felt the broom quiver slightly, and a curious sensation ran through her body – like she was totally weightless. Hermione didn't think she liked it very much.

'Right. I didn't fall over. Good start. Now, for the other leg.'

With trepidation she raised her other foot ever so slightly, so all her weight was resting on the heel of her left foot. Hermione closed her eyes tight and took a deep breath. She lifted he foot off the ground…

And stayed there.

Opening one eye, she looked down to see both her legs stuck out straight in front of her, and she was hovering about a foot above the ground. 'Hurrah! I did it!'

**O O O**

"Bravo, Granger. You managed to get your know-it-all arse of the ground. How does it feel? Surely the mud in you is weighing you down. Is that why you're staying down there?" Malfoy had watched with amusement as the girl down on the pitch mounted the broom agonizingly slowly, and then sat, suspended in the air, looking for all the world like a clown at a circus.

She looked up at him, her eyes squinting into the sun, a look of humiliation on her face.

The boy crowed in delight. "Oh, but Granger, this is _brilliant_! I can do something that you can't! Stay right there while I go and get the whole school to see this." He turned in the air, and was just about to fly back to the school and do exactly as he said when he heard it.

Her voice. He had heard it a thousand times before, when it was telling him where to go, or insulting him, but he had to admit; he had never before heard it saying something like_ this_. It was a frail sound, swallowed up by the chasm that hung between them, yet it sounded like she was singing, and the notes floated to him on the calm breeze.

He had expected her to tell him that of _course_ she could do it, but she wasn't a show-off like he was, so she didn't zoom around at 3,000 feet at 100mph like he did. But no.

All she said was, "Please don't."

He twisted his body round so he could see her properly. "Scared, Granger? Scared of loosing that reputation of yours? Scared of letting the world know that the Gryffindor princess _can't do something_?" He taunted, determined to let her know that he was in command.

"Yes." She replied, so quietly that had Malfoy not seen her lips move, he would have dismissed the sound as the leaves rustling in the wind.

He turned his broom away from the castle and ascended slowly, and began to fly away. His head was spinning. There was _no way_ that the girl down there was Hermione Granger. He didn't know who she was, but he didn't like the way she affected her.

He needed to clear his head.

**O O O**

She didn't know what had just happened, but she knew she wanted to get up there, and look as free as he did.

"Higher, please." She said, her voice ringing with the authority that belonged there. The broom rose, high above the trees and carried on up, soaring among the birds and feeling the wind whip her hair behind her. 'I _love_ this!' She thought, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

"Granger, what in hell are you doing?" A voice called down from above her.

She was higher than she had intended to be.

_Too_ high.

She could see the castle, the Lake, and the Qudditch Pitch, but she was high. And Hermione Granger does not like heights.

**O O O**

"What in hell is Granger doing up there?" Malfoy muttered to himself, spotting the curly-haired girl flying dangerously high.

For a second it occurred to him that he could hex her off her broom, and that would be it; he would have completed what he had been ordered to do.

But he banished the thought with a shake of his head. He wasn't a murderer, and he wasn't about to let anyone die – even if that someone was an insufferable know-it-all. He bent low on his broom and sped over to her.

**O O O**

'Don't look down. Don't do it, Hermione, don't look down. Look at the sky… the clouds... the mountains on the horizon… _Anywhere_ but the ground.'

Hermione's hazel-coloured eyes watered with the effort of keeping themselves level.

'You can do it, don't look down. Right, tell the broom to go down.'

"Broom…" She paused and took a deep breath. "…d-down." She stammered in a quiet voice. But the broom wouldn't go.

**O O O**

"Dammit, what in hell is she doing?" The blond-haired boy pressed lower on her Firebolt.

**O O O**

She looked down.

She screamed.

She fell off her broom.

**O O O**

"Shit!" Malfoy yelled as he saw her fall. He jolted as he realised what was happening, and broom hesitated.

The hesitation cost him everything.


	4. Chapter Three

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER TWO – **_**Awakenings**_

"'The only female member of the Golden Trio is in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, though her condition remains a mystery to the wizarding community.' Writes Rita Skeeter, reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. 'I can reveal, however, that the Healers of St Mungo's seem to be unable to determine the reason for the catatonic state Miss Granger is currently in. Rumours are flying about 'self-induced' comas, and that Miss Granger's 'illness' is a publicity stunt to attract attention due to the public's lack of interest in the Trio.'"

"That bitch!" Ron broke in. "I can't believe she's making up rubbish about Hermione again!"

Harry, who had been reading aloud from the newspaper, looked up at him and blinked. "Well, you'd better believe it, 'cause it's here, plain as day."

Ron sighed and sank into the chair opposite Harry. He looked over at Hermione's motionless form and sighed again. "Why won't she just wake up?"

It was dark by the time he dared to go in. He had been sitting in the waiting room since nine that morning, but it was at least eight o'clock by the time he plucked up the courage to go in.

He stood in the doorway for a while, his arms hanging limply by his sides and the flowers he had brought fell to the floor as he saw her.

Her face was as white as the sheets she lay on, and her hair was fanned out around her head like a halo.

Malfoy seriously considered turning back there and then, but something drove him forward. He walked slowly towards her as though in a daze, and stood at her bedside, gazing at her.

'_I_ did this. _I_ couldn't save her. _I_ stopped. _I_ did this to her. I'm the reason Hermione Granger is lying in a hospital bed, unable to move. _I_ did this.'

The tears were falling more freely now, and Malfoy's throat was beginning to clench.

"Granger," he began. "I just came to say… I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to tell people that it was my fault, and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to say this to you." He sniffed, and put his hand over hers.

It felt strange, but he wanted her to know he was sorry. He cared not for her, but for the fact that she might make him a killer.

'That's not what I am.'

O O O

The first thing Hermione felt was the touch of his hand. It was so warm next to her icy ones; it felt like a breath of life.

She knew it was him.

"I love you. I always have, and I always will."

O O O

"Malfoy? What have you-" Ron broke off, staring at Hermione, hope dawning on his face.

"I love you. I always have, and I always will." Hermione sighed, and her fingers closed over Malfoy's hand.

"She spoke! She's alright! Harry? Harry, get in here!" The red-head raced out the door in search of his friend.

Malfoy was left standing by Hermione's bed, his hand underneath hers. "What did you say?" He asked.

But there was no answer.

O O O

Hermione awoke the next morning. She called somebody in and calmly asked them why she was here when she had a Charms class to be in.

The nervous Healer was just coming to the end of her stuttered explanation when Harry and Ron burst in.

"Hermione!" They cried delightedly. "You're back!"

"Where did I go?" She replied, smiling and allowing herself to be hugged.

"So, how're you feeling?" Harry asked. "You shouldn't be too bad, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you." He grinned. "Though we must congratulate you – you've had the Healers completely stumped. They said they've never not been able to wake someone up before."

She smiled wanly. "So… what happened?" She asked nervously.

"You don't remember?" Hermione shook her head. "You fell. From… high up." Ron explained hesitantly.

"High up? But I hate heights!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We know. That's why we were…" The two exchanged dark looks. "Surprised."

"You were… somewhere… that was… _unexpected_." Harry finished.

"You were on a broom, Hermione." Ron blurted, looking stricken. Hermione was speechless.

"I was on a _broomstick_?" They nodded. "But I hate them!"

"That was what we said. And you got a little… touchy." Harry looked at her warily, as though expecting her to explode. "You stormed off, and next thing we knew, Malfoy was carrying you into the Entrance Hall and muttering something about-"

"Malfoy?" Hermione interrupted. "_Malfoy_ carried me in?"

"Er, yeah. We thought it was a bit funny at the time, but we were a bit preoccupied with you, to be honest." Ron said.

"You're _sure_ it was him?" She eyes him suspiciously.

"Hermione, this isn't supposed to be the Spanish Inquisition. Malfoy brought you in, looking paler than he normally does, if that's possible, put you down and set off some sort of alarm or something with his wand. Dunno what happened to him after that…" Harry trailed off. "But he told us afterwards that you'd been flying really high and had fallen… but he stopped you about a foot from the ground with a Hover Charm. That's why no-one could figure out why you wouldn't wake up, since you didn't actually hurt yourself…"

There was silence for a minute or two as the three thought their own, individual thoughts.

"Harry, what's the Spanish Inquisition?" Ron asked.

Hermione didn't sleep well that night. It was almost as if she could hear the silence of the hospital echoing through the hallways has the patients slept.

All except one. Hermione stared at the sliver of dark sky she could see for what seemed like eternity, but every time she remembered something, it slipped away before she had time to recall any details.

She was also waiting.

She didn't really think he would come, but she hoped he would nonetheless.

Somewhere in the bowels of the hospital a door snapped shut, and then all was silent once again.

O O O

He knew there was no point in coming here. It was past midnight – everyone was asleep.

He crept along the corridor towards her room and peered through the inky blackness to her bed.

It was empty.

Instead, Hermione was stood by the window, her glassy eyes reflecting the stars and her knuckles white from clutching the window sill so hard.

He walked into the room and stopped.

"Thankyou for saving me." Her voice startled him. "Harry and Ron told me what you did. Thankyou."

"Oh. I didn't really, I mean, you've been asleep for so long… I thought, well, I don't know what I thought… but I was afraid that you'd never wake up." Malfoy had to bite his lip to prevent himself from saying, 'Because you could have so easily made me into a murderer.'

She turned to look at him and stumbled. He caught her and set her down on her bed. "I'm sorry; my muscles aren't used to having to move so much. It takes me an age to walk from my bed to the window." She laughed humourlessly. "Makes me feel quite useless!" She smoothed the bedclothes on her bed and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Earlier, well, you said something to me. Something that I wasn't expecting." He started, awkwardly.

"Oh?" Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wide. "What did I say?"

"Well… you told me… that, well, you said you loved me." He said. She blinked. "Needless to say, I was somewhat surprised. And I just wanted some peace of mind…" He paused for a moment, before, "Did you mean it?"

"Yes." She replied immediately. "I always have. And I-"

"Always will. You said." He finished her sentence with a cross between a grimace and a blush. "Well, thanks, I guess."

There was an awkward silence while Hermione went back to staring out the window and he stared at her. After a minute or two, Malfoy turned to leave.

"Thanks again." She said, without turning around.

"For what?" He whipped round, eyes blazing and fire in his voice. "You keep thanking me but I didn't do anything!"

Hermione turned to face him slowly. "You saved me! Without you, Harry and Ron would be attending my funeral, not sitting at my bedside! I will _never_ be able to repay you for this!"

"No! You don't understand! You saw me flying high and you followed! If I hadn't been up so high, you wouldn't be like this!"

"Malfoy, you stopped me from hitting the ground. This – whatever it is – is not your fault. The Healers said the most likely situation is that it's due to stress. And that has nothing to do with you! The accident was probably a trigger-" Malfoy attempted to cut in but Hermione continued more forcefully. "-_which was also not your fault_! Harry and Ron…" She trailed off as he sank into one of the chairs positioned by her bed.

"But… I nearly killed you!" He said into his hands.

"No, you didn't!" Hermione replied in earnest. "You saved-"

"That doesn't matter!" He shouted, jumping from the chair. "It's what I've got to do!"

"What is?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice, clenching her hands to stop them trembling.

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I've got to kill you. That's my task. And I can't do it. I'm not a murderer. _I'm not my father_."

He sat back down and for a few moments Hermione couldn't speak.

"I know you're not." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh yeah?" He challenged. "Maybe this will change your mind." He raised his left arm and allowed his sleeve fall back to reveal…

The Dark Mark.

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

He looked up at her and laughed drily. "That's been most peoples' reaction."


	5. Chapter Four

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER FOUR – **_**Returning**_

To nobody's surprise, Hermione began to complain about missing school just nineteen hours after waking up.

When she first mentioned it, Harry grinned and looked at Ron with his hand outstretched.

"What's going on?" Hermione looked between the two of them, her eyes narrowed.

"Ron said it would take you at least three days for you to mention school work, but I said less. And I was closer." He added happily. "So he owes me two galleons."

"How long did you guess?" She asked.

"Ten hours." He replied, placing the money Ron had reluctantly handed over in his pocket.

O

Malfoy assumed that on his return to school, Hermione would stop plaguing his thoughts. He had assumed wrong.

The strangest things reminded him of her. If, for example, he was sat in a lesson, and the teacher mentioned something completely irrelevant, she would pop into his head, biting her lip in worry.

Her two _bodyguards_ returned to school two days after she had woken. The summer term had just begun, and very few people had heard about the accident, though most knew she was in hospital, so, inevitably, the rumours began.

As the week progressed, the stories began to get more and more ridiculous. On Monday, Pansy Parkinson was telling the Slytherin common room that she had been picked up by the 'Mudblood Patrol' to be 'dealt with' at the Ministry.

By Tuesday evening, Parvati Patil was informing people that she had been hoodwinked by You-Know-Who, and was now in Azkaban with Veritaserum pumping through her veins.

In the Great Hall the next day, the whole school was whispering about how the 'Granger girl' had been Imperiused and was now on a killing spree somewhere in North Yorkshire.

"I heard that the Dark Lord did it as a joke, to spite Potter." Blaise Zabini spoke, his dark hair falling across his eyes when he leaned forward.

Pansy shrieked with laughter. "Oh, wouldn't it be _wonderful_ it the Dark Lord killed her…" She said, maliciously. "That would show Potter!"

"She's too close to Scarhead." Nott pointed out. "Nobody will ever touch her at this rate."

"So how come the _Prophet's_ saying she's having spasms in her sleep? And that disfiguration on her face…" Pansy shuddered. "She was ugly enough already-"

"The _Prophet's_ lying." Malfoy interrupted, staring moodily at his food and pushing it roughly around his plate.

"What do you mean 'lying'?" Blaise turned to stare incredulously at him.

"Well, Zabini, when someone lies they say something that's not true." He smirked as the darker boy threw him a filthy look and Pansy let out another shriek. "She fell off a broom." Malfoy said.

Nott snorted. "Granger? On a broom?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How do _you_ know, Draco?"

Malfoy stared very determinedly at the pea that he was trying to balance on the end of his knife. "Oh, the usual, Father heard the story when he was at St Mungo's. Making a donation." He added, for validity.

Blaise and Nott looked at each other, unconvinced, and Pansy raised an eyebrow.

O

The first time Hermione saw Malfoy after she returned to Hogwarts was, ironically, during a Quidditch match. It was the final; Grffindor versus Ravenclaw, and Hermione was sat on the top-most bench, on her own and reading a book.

She wasn't really paying attention to the match, and she was trying very hard not to look down. (The accident hadn't helped her overcome her fear of heights.)

"Look at Granger. Could she _be_ any more of a loser?" Hermione heard Pansy's spiteful words but didn't look up. "God, if I had hair like that I'd probably kill myself!" She snickered and Hermione saw, out of the corner of her eye, her and Malfoy about five metres away from her. "I mean, it's not even like any guys dig that look! I guess she's just too ugly to care." Pansy shrugged and leaned back against Malfoy's arm.

A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek and she brushed it away angrily.

Malfoy saw the movement and turned to look at her. Hermione caught his gaze and dared him to mock her. "She's not bad." He shrugged.

Hermione's heart tightened. 'Had he actually just said that?' She thought, disbelievingly.

Pansy nearly fell off the bench in shock. "Not bad?" She screeched. "_Not bad_?! Draco Malfoy, take that back! You're talking about a Mudblood here! A Potter-worshipping, know-it-all, brown-nosing Mudblood!"

Malfoy winced when she shouted the last word. "I'm perfectly aware of who we're talking about, Pansy, but still. I think she's pretty."

Everything fell away. There was nothing in the world except her and the blond boy sitting near her, watching her out of the corner of his grey, grey eyes.

Pansy gaped at him. "She's not _pretty_! She's an ugly, fat, bushy-haired, flat-chested prude!"

"Shut up, Pansy. Just because you open your legs at every opportunity does not mean that your opinion is the only one that matters." He said, his tone sharp. Then he got up and walked away.

He didn't look at Hermione once.

O

Blaise approached him that evening.

"Er, Draco?" He said, nervously. "Can I talk to you?"

"Depends." Malfoy replied. "Does what you have to say have any relevance to my busy and interesting life?"

There was a silence for a few minutes, and Malfoy thought Blaise had gone, until, "You called the Granger girl pretty."

Malfoy stiffened. 'Shit.' He thought. "So? That's really none of your business, Blaise."

Blaise visibly hesitated, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "Actually, Pansy said you'd say that. And she said…"

Malfoy looked round at him, bored. "Well? Either finish that sentence or sod off, Blaise."

"She said… that she knows."

"Knows what?"

"Christ. This sounds stupid… Pansy said she saw you when you didn't do it." Blaise turned and left.

"Saw me not doing what?" He shouted after him. "Blaise! Not doing-" Malfoy went very white as he realised what Pansy was talking, albeit indirectly, about.

O

Hermione walked through school for a couple of days like she was the Black Plague. Corridors emptied around her, and even the Gryffindors seemed to want to avoid her at all costs.

A week after her return to school she was distraught. Nobody wanted to know her apart from Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville – who probably hadn't heard the rumours anyway, so didn't know any better.

"Just let it blow over, Hermione. Next week nobody'll think you're Voldemort's ambassador at Hogwarts. No sweat." Harry said one morning at breakfast.

"I can't let it go- I want people to know I'm not under the Imperius! This is absurd; if I turn around and look at the other tables everyone will go silent. They're all talking about me!" She wailed.

Ginny screwed up her nose like there was a bad smell. "Why do you care what they think? You know the truth, we know the truth, there's no problem!"

Hermione sighed. "I guess. But I wish there was a way to show everyone I'm not being controlled by You-Know- oh, sorry Harry, _Voldemort_."

"You could write to him and ask him to release a statement to the _Prophet_ saying so." Ron grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Hilarious, Ronald, as usual. But-"

At that moment, an enormous blast of noise echoed through the castle that shook the tables so much bowls of cereal and plates of scrambled eggs clattered to the floor.

Ron, who had fallen off the bench, appeared over the rim of the table, his face white. "W-w-what in the name of Merlin was that?" The four of them – Neville was doing his best to run away from the noise – joined the surge of students streaming out of the Great Hall.

They didn't have to look very far.

A scream from outside drew them into the biting morning air. Across the main doors, underneath the green and glittering Dark Mark, were the words:

"**You think I'd use a Mudblood to do it? Be suspicious – but not of her."**

Hermione had gone very white. "That means…" She whispered. "It says…"

"Be suspicious." Harry said, horrified. "It means that, someway or another, Voldemort's at Hogwarts."

O

The Slytherin common room was, for once, completely silent. The whole room was looking at the window, where Draco Malfoy had just disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Nott whispered angrily. "What's the point in us all being here? We could help him!"

"No, we couldn't. Draco's an independent operator." Pansy snapped. "Besides, if he told us to stay here; he had a good reason. So we stay."

Nott scowled, but didn't move.

A few minutes later, there was a huge 'bang', and the Slytherins jumped.

"What was that?" Blaise muttered, going to the window and peering out.

Pansy, who had screamed when she heard the noise, scrambled up from the floor and grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the leather sofa. "You heard what he said, Blaise, stay where you are and _don't_ look out the window."

"Who is he to tell us to sit like muppets in the common room while he's out there, having all the fun?" He asked, fiercely.

"He's Draco Malfoy. And I'm sure whatever he's doing, it isn't _fun_."

O

In fact, Malfoy was flying over the top most leaves of the Forbidden Forest, as hard and as fast as he could. After ten solid minutes of it, he turned sharply and flew back the way he had come, a look of satisfaction on his face.

When he arrived back at the castle, he avoided the crowd outside the doors and slipped quietly down to the dungeons.

A sea of hostile faces met him when he entered the common room. "Where in hell have you been, Malfoy?" Nott demanded in an aggressive tone.

Malfoy turned slowly to look at him. "Not that it's any of your business, _Theodore_, but I've been flying."

"Flying?" Nott repeated, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, Nott, flying. It's what happens on a broomstick. I assume you're familiar with a broomstick." He added, when he saw the blank look on the younger boy's face.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Nott snarled, and made to walk away, but Malfoy grabbed his arm and twisted it back.

"Watch your lip when you talk to me, alright? I think you forget who you're talking to sometimes." He smirked, and bent Nott's arm back even further. "So, politer in future. Got it?" Nott grimaced in pain but nodded. "Good. Anyone else got any problems with me flying when I want?" He addressed the others. "Right answer." He said, when no-one spoke.

**A/N: I know it's been a while, but I've had this chapter (and the next one) finished for a while, but I wrote them by hand and then promptly lost the notebook they were in. I wasn't overly pleased with this chapter when I read it back to myself, and I know I've confused some people, but hopefully everything will become clear soon. Please review, feedback means the world to me! (That and my cat.)**

**Anyone who hasn't yet, please check out my latest project, "Dramione: The Truth Behind The Obsession"!**


	6. Chapter Five

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER FIVE – **_**Decisions**_

Professor Dumbledore made the announcement the day after the message had appeared. "Hogwarts is closing. You must understand that this is for your own safety. I am sorry no more could be done."

He stepped off the podium and the students erupted in angry shouts and protestations, though the Slytherin table remained silent, some of them even grinning.

Malfoy had gone very white. 'No!' He thought. 'I won't go back there, they can't make me!'

"Yes!" Blaise cried. "School's out! This means we get an extra month of doing nothing!"

"No," Malfoy replied slowly, after nobody said anything. "It means we get a lifetime of doing nothing. Hogwarts is closing for good, so they'll be no train to get on next September, and we don't get to finish our education. And who's going to want to employ and unqualified wizard?"

Blaise looked blank, but Crabbe and Goyle grinned stupidly. "No more school! No more school!" Goyle chanted until Malfoy hexed him.

O

They were shocked, of course, but, as Harry said, Hogwarts was never going to be forever, and this was just cutting the plan a few months short.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at the word 'plan' but said nothing.

O

The train left at eleven o'clock the next morning and all along the train, students were sticking their heads out of windows to catch one last glimpse of the castle.

The previous night, Harry, Ron and Hermione had waited until all but themselves had gone to bed and then spent the last few hours of darkness visiting their favourite places and watching the sunrise from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"It's not like we're_ never_ going to be able to come back," Ron said bracingly. "When this is all over, it can reopen. Can't it?" He added uncertainly, but nobody knew what to say.

O

Malfoy hadn't got much sleep that night either, though not because he was reminiscing. His thoughts were on the future, and what was waiting for him at the Manor.

"It must've been him." Blaise muttered. "Think about it. You've got to have the Dark Mark to cast the Morsmodre Curse, and we were all in the common room. He told us where to be so we could stay out of trouble!"

He was in a compartment with Blaise, Pansy, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. His eyes had drifted closed so they thought (he assumed) that he was asleep. He had heard them having this conversation twice since the day before, but they had always clammed up when he interrupted them.

"Exactly!" Pansy was saying. "If he told us to be somewhere, he had a reason. He obviously didn't want us to know what he was doing, so if we were asked where he was, we wouldn't have to resort to Occlumency!"

Nott snorted. "I think you've misunderstood Malfoy completely, Panse. He's not that noble. My guess is he wanted all the glory to himself."

"Glory?" Blaise snarled. "You think he's going to be thanked for causing the closure of Hogwarts? That was the one place where the Dark Lord knew Potter would be, and now he's never going to be there again. So, really, Nott, work it out. Do you honestly believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will _glorify_ him? Use what common sense you have and think things through before you open your mouth in future."

Crabbe and Goyle were leering idiotically again. Nott was dumbstruck. Pansy looked nervous. Malfoy would have smirked but he was trying very hard to pretend to be asleep.

O

Their arrival at number 12 was remarked only by a subdued Tonks and a suspicious Mad-Eye.

"We're trying to keep a low profile. Not draw attention to ourselves." He said when met them at the station. "Molly and Arthur send their apologies but they had to work."

"Work?" Ron wrinkled his nose in confusion. "But Mum doesn't have a job."

"Not _that_ kind of 'work,' work for the Order!" Moody hissed. "Now, please keep quiet until we get back to Headquarters before you make us any more obvious."

Harry grinned as Ron's face turned a deep crimson, and he followed Moody out the station with Ginny at his side.

Ron looked at Hermione, who was craning her neck to look along the platform. "Looking for someone?" He said, and she jumped, looking flustered.

"Me? No. Who would I be looking for?" She laughed nervously. "Let's go, shall we? Don't want Moody to think the train has cursed us into oblivion." She set off at a fast walk and Ron hurried to catch up.

O

Draco waited until everyone else had left the train before he got off.

Pansy had gently shaken him when the train had drawn into the station, and he had made a great show of waking up slowly, yawning and stretching. She had wanted to wait for him, but he had waved her away with empty promises of regular letters.

Eventually he left the comfort of the train compartment and walked – as slowly as he was able – towards the door. On the platform, the last people left, were three people in long, black cloaks.

He stared at them apprehensively, but they turned and walked away without saying a word.

On his way out, Draco turned to take a last look at the Hogwarts Express.

For the first time since he had seen it, the station was empty and the train was still.

It was almost as if the last link to Hogwarts was dead.

O

Harry had naïvely assumed that living at Headquarters would be fun. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Conversations between adults were hushed, with frequent furtive glances over shoulders; Molly Weasley seemed to have a never-ending list of chores for them to do; and they were not allowed outside.

"If I have to do this… one more time… I… am going to kill… someone." Ron rasped out between chesty coughs. They were changing the sheets on the beds and Mrs Weasley had insisted they beat the dust out of the duvets before putting on more sheets, though because the restrictions they were forced to do it all in the already-dusty attic.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, at least we don't have to clean the bathroom again." Ginny admonished. There was a collective shudder as they thought of the second floor toilet they had been forced to scrub (the Muggle way, as everything inside that particular room seemed to be immune to magic) from top to bottom. "Exactly. So let's just get on with this without complaining."

Ron looked appalled. "Ginny. You're starting to sound _exactly_ like Mum."

"Am not!" She replied crossly.

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes and went back to beating the duvets, and so, before too long, the room was full of dust.

O

Draco felt it as soon as he passed through the gates. It was as though a cold wind had swept through him and robbed his body of all its warmth. He was still shivering by the time he reached the house, though it was June and the sun was beating down from a clear blue sky.

His welcoming committee had disappeared, so Draco picked up his trunk and began to make his way up to his room. Half-way up the stairs he found his mother.

She started. "Oh, Draco! I didn't hear you arrive." She was whispering, and kept sending terrified glances at a door just below them. "You'd better go to your room. Your father's a little busy, I'm afraid."

That was no problem; Draco had no desire to see him. "Okay," he shrugged.

Narcissa forced a smile, and Draco could not help but wonder where his mother had gone.

O

"Mum, just leave it." Charlie muttered.

"I most certainly will not!" Mrs Weasley replied heatedly. "There is no way that anybody is bringing anything illegal into my house-"

"Funny you should say that, 'cause last time I checked, this wasn't your house." George said loudly. "It's Harry's."

Everyone turned to look at Harry, who suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"And I'm sure _Harry_ won't have any problem with us keeping some completely _legal_ extra stock here, will you Harry?" Fred rounded on him.

"Er, well, if it's legal, and won't inconvenience anybody, I guess it's okay…" He trailed off under Mrs Weasley's murderous glare.

"Cheers, Harry!" Fred beamed, and bounded out of the kitchen.

"No problem." He replied weakly, and sank into the nearest chair.

O

Draco didn't see anyone apart from his mother for a week of him being at the Manor, and even she seemed to want to avoid him.

Had he not know any better, he would have thought it was just the two of them in the house.

He found them in the library.

The books were gone. In their place were rows upon rows of hideously mutated limbs and faces.

He wanted to be sick. He wanted to shut his eyes and push the destroyed faces of so many out of his mind.

He _recognised_ some of the faces. Underneath the annihilation, underneath the waste and the ruin, were people, real people with real lives.

The bile rose in his throat and as he was turning to leave a slight twitch made him look to the corner.

They were all naked, but for whatever reason it was impossible to tell if they were men or women. Chains bound them to the wall and forced them to sit in gruesome positions that stretched their arms and legs into horrific contortions.

Their bodies were covered in cuts and bruises, and their skin had turned a yellowy colour.

Draco retched. He _knew_ these people. They were the Muggles who ran the shop in the village.

"Draco, dear boy, you're just in time to see the show!" A dangerously soft hiss came from the shadows. "But never fear, when the time comes, we won't be so hard on you. For you are a pureblood, but this scum deserve no better treatment than the rats." The voice spat.

Draco heard none of this. He had stopped paying attention when the voice had said "we won't be so hard on you…" So Blaise had been right. He _was_ going to be punished.

"But for now, we have a little… _entertainment_. Come closer, Draco, and watch this filth die." Voldemort crooned, and Draco walked into the dark.

O

"Something's wrong." Hermione said.

"I know. Fred, I think we put too much basil in the sauce." George agreed.

Hermione was not impressed. "I'm serious… I think…" She was silent for a few seconds. "I think something's wrong."

"Well, that really clears things up. If something's wrong-"

"Quiet." She snapped. "Something's going to happen. I can feel it." Hermione announced. Then she continued to eat her tea, leaving Harry, Ron, Fred and George looking thoroughly bemused.

O

Draco walked back to his room in a kind of trance. He was shaking, there was a sheen of cold sweat all over his body and his legs were about to give way.

By some happy miracle he managed to reach his room without having collapsed, and he promptly threw up into the toilet. For at least an hour he was unable to move, so he just lay draped over the toilet bowl, trying to forget what he had just witnessed.

When he was sure he could shift without being sick again, he crawled over to his writing desk, grabbed some parchment and wrote the words:

'_I can't do this anymore._

_Please help me.'_

He addressed it, and attached the short letter to his owl. Then he lay down and curled up into a ball on the floor.

O

Dinner was a particularly rowdy affair that night. All the Weasleys (minus Percy); Fleur and her little sister (who was visiting from France; Lupin and Tonks; Mad-Eye had dropped in; and, to Mrs Weasley's great displeasure, Mundungus had appeared, claiming to need to see Dumbledore for some reason.

So it was during an extremely heated argument about house-elf rights that the message arrived.

A silver phoenix appeared above the table and Dumbledore's voice said in commanding tones "Malfoy Manor. Bring as many as will come."

There was silence for a split second before all hell broke loose.

Mr and Mrs Weasley went into protective parent mode, ordering Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione to stay where they were.

However, Moody had other ideas.

"You heard Albus, Molly, 'as many as will come.' You can't stop Harry and Hermione from coming. Right, Remus, you start informing the rest of the Order, duplicate Dumbledore's message to as many people as you can think of. Molly, Arthur, check wands. Make sure we're able to get to where we want to be. Tonks, we're leading the advanced party." He added grimly.

O

The room was freezing. Draco could feel the parts of his body still in his control turning slowly blue, but the temperature was the least of his worries.

They had come for him while he was sleeping. All Draco had seen was a group of cloaked and masked figures before everything had gone black.

He had woken in the same position as the Muggles had been in earlier; chained to the wall and naked.

And he was going to die.


	7. Chapter Six

Let's Remember It All

**Let's Remember It All**

**CHAPTER SIX – **_**Liberation**_

_He was going to die._

He couldn't believe it, not really. He was going to die because he had protected a Mudbl-

He couldn't even _think_ that word anymore.

Something had happened inside him, something that made him not want to be a Death Eater. But it was too late to try and change his destiny now, because he was going to die.

And that was that.

O

"We are here for Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore began. Various members of the Order of the Phoenix had been arriving for the past five minutes; there were now at good thirty people. "He has notified me that he no longer wishes to become a servant to Lord Voldemort. We are going to remove him from his home in order for him to join the Light. Be prepared to use all means necessary and available. Those of you who are not yet seventeen, feel free to use your wands at will."

Harry was gobsmacked. "Malfoy? We're here to rescue _Malfoy_?"

"Yes, Harry, that is correct. I rather hoped you would pick that up the first time I said it. Do I need to reiterate myself again?" He raised his eyebrows politely.

Harry had the good grace to look abashed. "No, Professor. Sorry, Professor."

"That's quite alright, Harry. It _has_ come to my attention a few times in the past six years that you and Mr Malfoy are not exactly, eh, shall we say, _bosom buddies_." Ron snorted. "But this place is Voldemort's new headquarters, so, almost undoubtedly, we will encounter some difficulties in trying to obtain Mr Malfoy. I will go on ahead, when I require your assistance, I will use the usual signal. Pip pip!" He clapped his hands together twice before walking calmly towards the gates, which opened to let him pass.

O

"Well, Draco, this is it. I am going to kill you. And this is punishment! You are being punished for saving a Mudblood! The very Mudblood you were ordered to _kill_, no less! Have you nothing to say for yourself? No last minute repentance, won't you even _try_ and beg for mercy?" Lord Voldemort hissed furiously.

Draco couldn't speak. Everything hurt so much he could barely see through the pain, let alone think clearly enough to form an answer.

"No? None of your blessed Gryffindor courage, then. Shame." He shook his head.

"I'm sure Draco will be plenty brave enough to smile in the face of death when it is time for him to die, but that day is not today."

The assembled Death Eaters looked flabbergasted. Dumbledore had appeared in front of the chained boy, without the tell-tale 'crack' of Apparation, and had begun talking as if he interrupted Dark torture sessions every day.

Voldemort growled softly. "What are you doing here, old man?"

"I'm here to stop this terrible assault on a young man. Draco Malfoy is coming with me." He replied.

Voldemort made a noise that sounded quite like a snort. "You and which army?"

O

The signal arrived – a single phoenix feather – about seven minutes after Dumbledore had left them.

"Right," Moody said immediately. "Everyone, with me. Let's go and save the boy."

O

"You think I'm going to need an army to this?" Dumbledore surveyed the scene over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "I had rather hoped to settle this without a fight."

The three doors to the room burst open, revealing the Order, wands raised.

"I'm only going to ask once, Tom. Relinquish the boy. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

"Why do you even want him? He's a pureblood. A Death Eater. A _Slytherin_."

"Not yet." Dumbledore said.

Then he struck. As, one the Order stepped further into the room, and before the Death Eaters had even reached their wands, the air was thick with spells and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor, Stunned or worse.

Hermione ignored it all. She ran towards Dumbledore, who was still stood in front of Draco. She dodged the flying spells, dropped to he knees in front of the crippled boy and threw her discarded coat over him.

She tried every spell she could think of to unlock the chains that bound him, but to no avail.

"Blood." Draco choked out. "You need to cut me."

She threw him a disparaging look. "You must be joking." She drew her wand along her hand and a drop of glistening crimson blood fell onto the rusting metal.

Nothing happened.

"No…" He rasped. "It needs… pure blood. _Clean_ blood." Hermione recoiled, and hoped Draco couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

She glanced around frantically, and her eyes fell on a fallen cloaked figure. She hauled the body over to the wall, and hastily cut its hand.

A gush of blood poured out from the wound, and the clasps sprung open.

Hermione hastily healed the cut, and then wheeled round just in time to witness Draco fall forwards and land face down on the floor.

Hermione swore. He was heavier than she was and there was nobody around to help-

"Come on, mate, easy does it," Harry was easing Draco off the floor.

"There we go, we've got you…" Ron had grasped Draco's other side and was gently guiding him to the nearest door.

Hermione nearly wept with relief. "Thanks guys."

"I've got a cloak!" Ginny volunteered, and handed it to Hermione, who placed it over Draco's shoulders and fastened the buttons.

And then, with the battle still going on around them, the five left.

**A/N: Not my best, certainly, but this chapter was really necessary, and I couldn't think of another way of writing it. I know things have been a bit clichéd, but please stick with me, things will (fingers crossed) become more original soon. Let me know what you think!**


End file.
